Chapter Text
The air was dry, thick with dust and floating sands, twirling around the edges of his vision. It made him angry as soon as he opened the door of the Impala. With a swift motion, warm air filled his lungs to the brim. Then the thick, heaving desert sun blinded him, and made the next move as clear as the flames of thousands burning bones. He should lose his damn leather jacket before it'll melt into his own skin.
This town wasn't just forgotten… It was buried in time, like a memory nobody dares to dig up. Lucky for this town… He was an expert in digging up shit he wasn't supposed to, and so was Sammy. Thank god for that annoying presence by his side. In this heat though? He wasn't doing any digging yet.
The street was lined with broken pavements and boarded-up windows. This has got to be a joke. Or a badly implemented movie setting. He groaned in frustration as he scanned their newly found habitat, hopefully, not for long.
"You sure this is where the coordinates lead? It feels too…” Sammy trailed off, nerdy and constipated as always.
“Dead. I know.” Dean huffed back, short and snappy, not having the energy to get offended over his navigation skills.
Honestly? They were deep into something they didn't even understand. Ash came up with sand storms and a crazy theory about a desert demon that's very related to the demon they were looking for, and they just jumped all over the records like maniacs who craved a fight. Which… Fair enough… They were. No way he was sitting another minute in that damn roadhouse scared shitless of a crazy lady that pours his drinks. God bless her.
He was tired of the drama, tired of the mess their dad left for them to deal with. Hell, he was tired of himself. The setting was unsettling, sure, but it was peanuts compared to the rumble inside his chest. He felt like an explosive, the kind that was about to burst right open, any minute now.
Now that he thought about it, Ash also mentioned something about livestock going missing, which seemed unreasonable right now because… What's even alive out here anyway? This place creeped him the fuck out, and something was off about the way the shadows didn't move like they should. He tried shaking that feeling, focusing on the Impala that hummed behind them, engine ticking from the heat. He was already sweating through the back of his shirt, boots covered in desert ash and blood from a banshee hunt a couple of nights before. Good old times. Simpler.
—
As they scanned the place for even a single breathing person, or a bar, or some place that's even open, they spotted you. Sammy first, nodding towards you awkwardly as Dean shifted his gaze up from a wrecked house to his right. He stopped, dead cold in his tracks, which, in this heat, was pretty impressive.
You walked out of a beat-up old truck that looked like it once ruled the road. Rust curled around the black edges like scars, the right rear mirror was torn to shreds of shiny remains, glinting in the sun. And yet… Somehow, that damn car still looked majestic in its defeat. But it’s not the car that stopped him cold. It was you.
He couldn't help the slight grin creeping into his lips. Finally, a worthwhile interaction with a chick on wheels… A distraction from his aching heart, and empty soul. A beautiful illusion with curls catching fire in the sunlight, and eyes like sharpened blades of pure iron.
Your tattoos wrapped around your arms like ancient runes, all strength, and pure intention. Gold rings, gold chains, gold everything. As if you tried embodying the sun itself. Now wasn't that a poetic goddamn thought.
Sammy was saying something, probably important. He was trying to start a small-talk and introduce himself, but Dean couldn't hear a damn word… He was locked on you, stare unwavering, jaw twitching.
Maybe it was your looks, which, fine, for the millionth time… He looked, peeked, wasn't even sleek about it. He was sure he was going to hell anyway so what's another flick of the eyes? But no… It was your aura. Dark. Strong. Open like the mountains up ahead. You noticed him staring, and you just stared back, amused.
“Ahem” Sammy cleared his throat, elbowing dean in his ribs, hard.
In return, he snapped back into reality with a nervous, charming, scoff.
“Yeah, right... So basically we’re asking why the fuck is everything closed around here”
Dean continued the conversation he wasn't even listening to. Poorly, and with a winning smile that showed his upper teeth. Like he did a million times before.
You crooked a pointy eyebrow that could slit a throat if you wanted to. It was a strong stare, but underneath it was laying an open field of curiosity.
“Truth is… I told them all to close everything for the day” You offered sincerely, still smug towards Dean.
“And you ask because…?”
There was heat rising off the blacktop, and Dean wasn't sure if it was the sun, or just you. He got confused, you see. When he was talked to with this weird tone of… Sincerity. There was also a punch to it. He couldn't make up his mind about you, not yet, so he was rolling with the tune he knew best.
“Because we're deeply worried about the economics in such a… Lovely town. You see, sweetheart. We're investors, looking to buy some land, specifically the one that's nearest to the water-tower”
The lie isn't even believable, Sammy was literally cringing out his goddamn mind, but he ignored that. The only thing that mattered is you, anyway. But by the looks of it, and the snore that came flying out your nose as you checked the dreaded state of his sweaty shirt, you didn't believe shit. Never had. Never will. You run this town, it was all clear now. You told everyone to close everything up, and they just did. That made sense, now that he saw you up close. He would probably do anything that came out your mouth too. But that revelation was for a different occasion. He shouted at himself mentally, his winning smile now wavering under your gaze.
“Right… So… You heard of hollowing? You guys are hunters, right?” You offered, full of mischief.
He thought he saw red for a split second. Oh, no, it was just your hippie headscarf dipped in those curls.
“Wha…”
“How do you know that, and what's a hollowing?” Sammy snapped right back, while Dean was still in shambles.
In that second, he swears, every siren in his head told him to shut the fuck up and be careful. To keep it cool, and make sure to share only half truths. There are so many things they don't know, so much their dad kept away in the dark. Now they start cracking open that bleeding wound, all by themselves, and he swears… It's like there were witches and hunters in every corner. Where were they all along anyways?
That said, he couldn't control himself. Not fully. As if hypnotised by an electric pull. Or a particularly sharp set of wicked eyes. Like destiny itself just grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and whispered for him to pay attention. Real good this time. Never did in school anyways, Hell, never got the chance to. But now? Now it felt… Important.
You cocked your head. Slight smile. A glint in those eyes that said you were trouble, but the kind of trouble you don’t run away from. At least not straight away. You offered some context, enjoying the confused state of the boys all too much.
"Your question is flawed at its base. It's not an entity, it's a demon’s name. Hollowing is the desert demon of the wastelands, and he's hunting these grounds for generations. Us people? We have just fought it since biblical times it seems…”
You trailed off, eyes getting glassy with thought, smile falling to a soft line. It didn't seem happy at all.
Dean was close to crossing that line now, the line he drew for himself, in order to stay focused, ready, and sane. But you seemed honest, and you had this ache behind your eyes. There was a wicked story there, a soldier that fought too damn much, something hollow and empty. Tired. It fucking takes one to know one. He spoke slowly, not cautiously… Deliberate. Like he was trying not to spook a wild creature that, let's face it, might bite back.
"And you, sweetheart… You fight it on you own? How?"
—
You raised an eyebrow, giving him that once-over like you were measuring the weight of his sins, or his worthiness of an honest answer. Hunters were usually friends, you reminded yourself, and it showed plain on your face that the inner battle you were having was a righteous one. You flicked your gaze onto Sam, the tall one with the fuzzy soul and warm eyes, and he's looking open and caring. Dean though… He seemed like trouble, the unfolding kind. You decided that despite that, your mission here was worthy enough for you to finally give in.
“With these bad boys.”
You lifted up your tank top to show a set of knives hung off of your belt, they seemed like they were made of pure iron, silver, some brass and some were just golden. Your bag was full to the brim with salt, moon water, crystals and a variety of sands and ashes in ancient bottles, some weren’t even marked. But you didn’t need them marked. You could feel them buzzing in different frequencies, like music to your ears.
—
Damn, you weren't playing around. Sammy looked equally impressed with the collection. But something was twisting in Dean's gut, like an ancient instinct that knew how to always look out for the sketchy types.
"If you're a hunter too, what the fuck are those crystals for?” He asked, sharp and plain, all tense now, testing your reaction closely.
“Dean… Come on…” Sammy trailed off feeling uneasy with the investigation, but his eyes were now moving rapidly between the three of you and those damn crystals.
Yeah right. He wasn't getting into another twisted co-op with an unknown woman that might as well be the death of his bravado. Not without knowing who the hell she was and what's her story anyway. Sammy could feel bad for you all he wanted, after the crazy partners they had recently, he wasn't willing to get into another gig and find out he was following a demon worshipping maniac into the unknown. Ugh. Nope. No thanks.
You huffed and nodded in defeat, a sense of urgency now creeping into the way your arms moved. Hasty, like you ain’t got much time for this conversation, not at the pace it was going in, anyway.
“I'm not exactly a hunter” You confessed.
“I knew it” Dean scoffed in fake disgust, something inside him couldn’t seem to relax and just judge you plainly, for some reason. A fleeting feeling that tugged at his heels. Curiosity, maybe.
“I’m a witch too” You offered, now wicked and sharp.
They both took a step backward, sharp and trained, eyes shining in the desert sun with a flame of their own. Tense and holding onto the guns they were hiding in the back of their pants.
All that tension… And you laughed. Simple and half hearted, raising your hands in mock defeat.
“Hey now, I ain't that kind of a witch… Jeez… What beds were you guys getting into anyways?”
“How do we know we can trust you?” Sam's words were clipped, precise.
“We don't" Dean breathed through gritted teeth.
“Hey! I'm literally saving a whole ass town over and over again from this demon… We're not evil witches. And we don't only do magic tricks” Your eyes went flying to the dagger hiding in your boot.
“Bullshit. So there are more like you? Where?” Dean was pissed, somehow he couldn't just tango with normal, plain girls recently. They all turned out to be outright maniacs or paranormal. Shit. He was starting to fear he lost his charm, his will to live with it.
You breathed through your nose, now urgent and shaken up. The sun was starting to dip into those mountains, and the pure heat was whispering its last breath. A warning that comes in twirling sands. They warned the three of you, right before the nightly winds take over this dead world… That's when all hell breaks loose, usually. Dean knew that all too well.
“Look, I can't prove you shit and I don't mean to. I've got a demon on steroids waiting to crawl the face of the earth in about… Two hours max. I'm going to the water-tower myself. You can tag along if you want to… Don't let me get in your stupid way” You finally snapped, closing the bag you held and getting into that black truck.
Dean was swearing he could see the steam of pure rage coming out your ears as soon as you got into the driver seat. He looked at Sammy, Sammy looked back at him, completely lost and useless. Ugh. Dean rolled his eyes. Unbelievable. He couldn’t believe they were gonna follow a damn witch into a demon fight. He hated this gig already. Do they have a death wish? Are they stupid enough to actually finish this cursed job? The questions filled his head as anger rose in his chest. He let it out on the road, tires screeching on the deserted asphalt.
—
Sammy was quiet next to him, tense and nervous.
“What?” He asked, loud and angry.
“I just can't believe you agreed to that” Sammy breathed out, looking out the window and Into the golden skies.
“I can't either “ He mumbled under his breath.
“Maybe she is a good witch, we met some good vampires already…”
“Yeah right” He laughed, it was with zero humour “If we suddenly hear about a new nest down in the south, I'm blaming you”
Dean locked eyes with Sam, all rage and bait. Cold steel and inflated nostrils. Sammy just rolled his eyes and tried to remember how to breathe. This was insane. They were insane. Yet… Something whispered into Dean's heart, that maybe, just maybe, this gig wouldn't turn out to be the worst decision he ever made.
That sad smile of yours flashed before his eyes. You didn't seem like the type to roll around in the dirt of your own demonic possession. But after too many crazy hunts, endless days on the road, and the overall feeling that they were completely lost without their dad… He couldn't tell anymore.
—
They got out of the car silent, and tense. Right after you. You were already scanning the blooming dark skies, dotted with distant stars that barely burned through in the early stages of this… Whatever the fuck this was.
There was a distant wind, a distinct shift that was cold, too cold to be normal, too empty to be real. Oh… But it was. It was chilling right to the bone. You looked at Sam and Dean, all tense glares, and a quiet understanding… It was coming. You nodded towards Sam.
“You felt that too, didn't you, psychic boy?”
“How did you…?” Sammy squinted His eyes.
“Fuck that, I'm getting shit from the car, come on” Dean commanded, hasty.
They loaded themselves with salt, chalk and their dads journal. And Dean, not even blinking, loaded himself with some anti-witchcraft charms. Just in case you tried anything funny. Sam was practically eyeballing him. Clearly safe in the notion that this random hunter-witch crossover was a trusty situation. Well, it wasn't. Not for Dean. Nor before you proved it.
When they walked back into your field of vision, you were already chanting in tongues they couldn't understand. Around you a salt circle, but there was cinnamon sprinkled on top of it.
“This ain't a kitchen, lady” Dean raised an eyebrow, examining your every move.
But you continued chanting. Eyes closed, brows frowned. Remembering the words with all your might. Then, suddenly, your eyes flashed open, focusing on Sam and holding your hand towards him, as if asking for him to get inside the circle.
“Whoa, no way” Dean's hand went flying to Sam’s chest.
You weren't speaking, didn't even try explaining yourself, but the knit to Sam's own brow dissolved into a realisation.
“She can't speak or it'll break the blessing. That was ancient Hebrew she just chanted! I knew I heard it before”
“What the hell are you talking about, no way you're getting in there” Dean whispered through gritted teeth.
Sam just pushed Dean's hand with a sharp motion, and walked towards you, and Dean was crazed, pissed was an understatement. His eyes went flying between you two, clearly lost and unmistakably furious. It was his anger alone, and the need to slap Sam in the goddamn face, that led him inside the circle as well. But before he could do that, you already touched them both on their shoulder and whispered a soft ‘amen’.
The wind was all around, it hummed with a warm presence, positive and unmistakable. All that anger faded real quick into a sigh of relief. What in the world…
“There, we'll be protected from the worst this demon can do”
“Oh yeah? And what's that?” Dean felt light-headed and dazed from the circle's effects. Of course, not enough to forget his cocky behaviour.
“Well… He's actually hollowing out his victims. Both spiritually and physically. Countless skin suits… Soulless… I've found them all in the sand… Scattered all around this place. He's still dangerous though, so don't you be fooled by this nice warm feeling In your chest”
“What’s the cinnamon for, then?” Sammy asked, curious.
“For good luck, of course. And abundance. And financial success. And keeping away insect from the corners of your closet”
“Okay okay we get it” Dean cut you off “Quit the witchy shit, it’s giving me second thoughts here”
The eyebrow you raised was sure to give you some muscle pain. You hit that face far too many times. He was starting to worry you'd get it paralysed in that same exact expression, for good. Not that it was a bad look... But still.
“That witchy shit is what's gonna save your damn ass in there. Don’t come crying later, saying I didn't warn you”
And with that, they walked towards the water-tower. Sammy first, scanning the ground for suspicious marks and creepy vibes with the noisy EMF. Dean was following right behind, and you right by his side. Your eyes were sharp, and he noticed the way you walked… The ground and particles of sand moved, vibrating. Your aura was practically dripping through the tough exterior.
It lit something inside him. Something he couldn't explain or even start to break down. Like an instinct that was buried deep as soon as he found a reason not to trust you. Just like that, something else took its place. Grey areas and vicious dances into the night, with creatures, or women, dangerous just the same. That was the game, after all.
“Looks like you know your way around the dark” His eyes darted between you, and the direction of your fierce stare.
You snorted at him, unbelievably attractive and judging. Wait, was that attractive to him? The way you weren't even considering looking in his direction? You were dangerous, sure, that's a possibility, but unbelievably skilled and witty… Huh. He guessed he already hit a few lows in the last couple of days. That's a new one, for sure. He would blame it on the lack of pretty girls or easy distractions involved in this job, but there you were, right next to him. He was a simple man after all.
So he tried again, under a hasty, nervous laugh.
“So… You're not just a witch… You're a gun slingin’, blade carrying, blessing casting crossover? That supposed to make sense to me?” He tried to keep it flirty, but there was an edge to it.
“Why does that even matter? You use guns and salt, witches use spells. I'm rocking with both. This ain't that deep” You huffed, trying to focus.
“Well… On normal days I'd say the line between the monster and the hunter is already blurry as it is…” He trailed off, lashes flattering as he stared right at you.
“But you seem like nothing I ever came across… Desert witch with boots. Carrying firearms in her trunk”
“Maybe that's why you can't stop staring” you locked eyes with him, finally. It was full of fire.
There was a beat there, a high pitched sound piercing his ears as flames met cool iron. He was sure his heart stuttered right then and there. Since when was his heart even noticeable to him anyway? Since when did it make itself known?
“Now can you shut the fuck up and let me do my job?”
Yup. That was it. He tried, he really did. His brain was doing a backflip, forgetting how to function for a bit. He chuckled, scratched the back of his neck like a teenage boy, and huffed a hasty “sure” before hurrying his steps towards Sammy. No way he was dealing with whatever the fuck that was. Not now. Probably never.
“Phew… Man… That woman is scary” He shook his head, his nerves with it. Physically trying to ward off the effects you had on him at that moment.
Sammy laughed in amusement and looked at him with that annoying ass expression.
“What.”
“Nothing”
“Shut up” Dean rolled his eyes, loosing his smile into pure annoyance.
“Dean, I didn't say anything”
“Yeah well shut your face up. Where's that demon anyway?” He tried shifting the topic.
Damn it… Sammy always knew to read him like an open book. He was definitely an expert in getting on his nerves too. Could they finish this shitty job already and crawl happily into a shitty motel room to finally get some shitty rest? Was that too much to ask for in his sorry state? He was surrounded by a nerdy know-it-all brother and a sketchy, fiery, hot witch of the waste…. And he was getting impatient.
You came half running right behind them pointing a finger towards the base of the water-tower.
“There. We should set a demon trap”
That sounded familiar. Something in his gut twisted and the thought of crossroads and forbidden deals swirled in his mind. Sammy got right to it, not needing to be asked twice.
“What makes you think he'll step inside it?”
Dean crooked an eyebrow, careful not to broadcast his mind onto you. You might as well be listening already, the way you scanned his face. Then you smiled, simple and sharp, and he swears, it did something to him. Something twisted and insane.
“We’ll offer a bait, of course”
He knew that the stare he gave you was nothing more than blank, like you just toasted the last piece of a coherent thought that went through his head.
“Oh, and I also got gunpowder laced with ancient white witchcraft. Should numb a decent sized demon up to his pelvis, at least”
“Why would you…” Dean trailed off, trying desperately to hold it together “Even say that…” He laughed but it was a cry for help, believe him, it was.
—
All you offered was a lovely smile that said ‘Rest easy stupid hunter, soon you'll catch up with me… Or maybe not’. And then Sammy was done with the chalk. And you placed a warm hand right on top of Dean's chest. Before he was even recalibrating his own mind, trying desperately to process the soft, sudden contact, he was pushed into the trap.
"What the fuck, no way I'm kissing a fucking demon again” He protested.
“What? When did you kiss a demon?” Sammy and his stupid shocked gaze.
“Fuck… Nevermind… Ugh I feel his presence already. You never said I was the bait, witch!” he was furious.
“Relax! Jeez! You got something up your cakehole or something? We just wait now, it's the same time and day every year. Same spawning spot too. The dumb scumbag doesn't seem to figure out we've been capturing him dead in his tracks for years now.”
"Wait… That's genius… He’s like the yellow eyed demon's stupid and less successful brother" Sammy was light on his feet with the recent revelation.
“Who?” You blinked.
Sam and Dean exchanged hasty looks now, speaking in their own siblings language through their eyes alone. It seemed they reached an agreement to shut the fuck up. Those brothers turned out to be way weirder than you imagined. Then again, managing to drag a hunter every year, same date and time, over and over again, just so that you could have a year of quiet… You got to meet some pretty sketchy types. To say the least.
The bizarre conversation was cut short by a low whistle and a freezing wind that almost knocked Dean down onto his knees. His Gun wouldn't be of much use against a demon. But your gun will. If you'll even need it.
The demon came crashing down right in the middle of the trap. He wore the skin of the past human he killed. He stared Dean right in the face.
“Hunter… I came to feed off of you”
“Yeah right” Dean chuckled low in his throat “Eat this sucker”
Sammy started reading in Latin without even blinking, years of training and banishing coming to his tongue swiftly and precisely.
“No! Wait!” You shouted mid sentence, stopping Sammy dead in his tracks.
“Don't banish him, he'll come ten times stronger, and he'll remember not to crawl out of here next time” You begged.
“What...?”
“It's a long story… Okay? We managed to tie this demon by magic. Instead of feeding off of real humans and souls, he comes and feeds off of the negative emotions of the fierce hearts of… Hunters. Nothing else we could have done... The sands are cursed, biblical shit okay? We just need to salt him and banish him for another year. He won't starve that way, and won't come back to claim more victims".
“What?! That's it? He's getting away with all the death and distraction he caused to your town?” Sammy looked puzzled now, unable to grasp the logic, or the morality of this whole deal.
“It'e called sacrifice, Sam, so yeah. If that means my people get to live another year”
“You just gave me up as bait!” Dean was joining the shouting, eyes wide with the knowledge.
“Oh shut up, you're alive and breathing. Enough to be bitching around, that's for sure!”
---
Oh, he was shutting up now, alright… Mouth gaping like a fish out the goddamn water. He couldn't believe how a woman was able to be this fierce and unbreakable and scary all at the same time. Honestly, he was shocked that he got himself into this crazy situation to begin with. He wanted to slap himself in the face. And Sam. And you. But that would be frowned upon, wouldn't it? You use him, and he gets the dirty looks. Talking about double standards.
“So what? We just let him go?” Sammy seemed unconvinced.
He looked so unsure of himself and burdened with an inner battle of his own. His eyes went back and forth, scanning your face, Dean's, the demon…
“Please…” You practically begged, and held a hand on top of the notebook he was reading from.
“And Dean? He walks out fine?”
“Sammy don't you dare believe that witch!”
“I promise, Sam, you gotta believe me. Just a pinch into that bitch-ass heart of his”
Sam was frantically looking at Dean, who was raising both his hands at his sides. Mouthing the words ‘Unbelievable’ and ‘I can't believe I flirted with a witch’ under his breath. He finally nodded and locked eyes with you, making sure that whatever will happen next, you were still sure it was gonna be alright. It was a tense, worried stare. But you returned an understanding one, just as sincere as his.
—
The whole thing was a blur to him. First he snaps, yelling at Sammy, inflating his nostrils and maybe, deep in his heart, he was scared, for the first time in a long while. The demon's presence was unmistakably dark, he felt it all around, hell, he felt it inside his heart, digging up the worst of memories, bringing this unbelievable sense of dread and lack of meaning. He closed his eyes shut with a low groan as he fell to the dusty ground, holding his chest. It all came crashing down on him as his vision got dark with visions of his parents, and Sammy, and death itself.
Deep in the haze of whatever the fuck was happening to him, he resurfeced with a thought. That bitch hurt like hell. But he couldn't deny the truth of what he felt: That demon? He wasn't half as strong as the crossroad one, or any other demon he encountered, for that matter. It was clear that he was bound to some kind of strong, unwavering magic, and it really made him think if that was something that can be done again… Maybe on another demon, maybe a stronger bind.
He opened his eyes just to immediately push Sammy away from his face, a low groan in his throat. He was on the ground now, having a coughing fit that wouldn't have embarrassed the finest of smokers in the land.
“I can't fucking believe you did what that witch told you” he growled at Sammy, gravelly and angry.
All Sammy did was press his lips and knit his eyebrows endlessly, as if that's a good enough apology. In the edges of his vision, Dean saw you standing, looking up into the night sky. Calm now, and content. You moved your eyes to him. It was all fuzzy at the edges. He swears he saw you smile for the first real goddamn time today, right then and there.